


Say Something

by Jadynof9



Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: Abandonment, Anger, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Redemption, baby steps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26267512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadynof9/pseuds/Jadynof9
Summary: Gabriel reflects on his childhood when he's confronted with the reality of the present.Or...What happens when Gabe learns his mom wasrightthe whole time?
Relationships: Gabriel Hwang & Raffi Musiker, Raffi Musiker/Seven of Nine
Comments: 26
Kudos: 42





	1. First Step to Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an idea that had been playing in the back of my mind after finishing In Wounded Hearts, wanting to have some kind of interaction between Raffi and Gabe. It’s heavy, and definitely comes with a fair amount of content warning – I promise someday I’ll swerve back toward light and fluffy!
> 
> Content warning: emotional abandonment by parent, parental alcoholism, and all the conflicting emotions that come with living through that.
> 
> Heavily influenced by A Great Big World’s “[Say Something](https://youtu.be/-2U0Ivkn2Ds)” and also by Regionalpancake’s Downtime Chapter 79 – [Paper Trail](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23613715/chapters/60196591).

Gabriel Hwang remembered.

He remembered his mom’s bright eyes and strong hugs when he would chase her around the house on his still somewhat unsteady legs and he eventually caught her. They would both laugh and there would be tickles and everything was warm and happy and light. The memories were fuzzy, because he had been so young – but they were definitely there.

He remembered how he would yell excitedly whenever those yellow shoulders and sparkling eyes would peek around the corner to surprise him, home on shore leave. She would inevitably have some trinket or another from her journeys, but he didn’t care nearly as much about those as he did having her home. He would sit in her lap while she told stories about her latest adventure in space with his Uncle Luc, and apparently he would fall asleep in her lap, because the next thing he knew he was waking up in his bed. He would often scramble out of his room when this happened. If it was a good day, mom would be in the kitchen, leaning against the counter in normal clothes and wild hair, sipping on coffee while dad was making breakfast; other days dad had breakfast already out and was waiting with a letter from mom, who had already had to leave for her next assignment. He would draw her pictures of the stories, usually putting himself right next to her wearing a little Starfleet uniform. He hoped that if he drew one good enough, she’d take him with her, because he’d follow her anywhere just to spend more time with her.

He remembered the school events where he tried his best to play off the ache in his heart watching all his friends’ moms. Friends who would talk about how cool it must be to have your mom not only working in Starfleet but working with the super cool Admiral Jean Luc Picard and the Enterprise. They didn’t know how little he saw her. They didn’t know how that any time those yellow shoulders came home now they weren’t as high and proud as they used to be. The didn’t know that those brown eyes that used to sparkle and fill him with so much joy when they peeked around the corner now looked tired and distant. They didn’t know that the trinkets for him were being replaced by bottles for her, typically from Uncle Luc’s vineyard. They didn’t know about the conversations between his parents that seemed to get progressively louder and angrier as time went on, conversations that went over his head as he hid under the blankets in his room trying to remember what life was like before then.

He remembered the effort he put into learning Romulan, just so he could find some way to connect with her. The looming Romulan supernova seemed to reach even his home: there was typically a tense, chilling atmosphere, a star cooling as it approached its red giant phase. Something was dying at home, and every return had become a held breath, a high-strung air of wondering if this was it, if this was the day the core collapses and everything ends. All she ever talked about was the supernova, the evacuation, the longer and longer periods between visits home. The first time he greeted her in Romulan when she got home (she was tired, those yellow shoulders sagging, there was an emptiness behind those dull brown eyes and a hint of wine on that exhausted exhale), it was like he had infused her with new life. Those eyes lit up and she stood up tall and they talked in a cloud of happiness just like they used to, her Romulan heavily accented with her Terran upbringing and his clumsy and tripping as he gamely tried to keep up, not wanting the moment to end. They laughed and even his dad had smiled (that hardly ever happened when she was home anymore), and they ate together, and she didn’t drink, and he thought maybe everything would be okay this time.

He remembered that it wasn’t. The dream ended the next morning when the arguments that were normally saved for nighttime greeted him as he walked out of his room for breakfast after getting ready for school. Something important broke in him that day, as the argument had paused briefly when he made his appearance, but then continued with him as a focal point. It was the first time he realized on some level that mom was making a choice, and it wasn’t him. Because as he walked out the door he heard her declare she couldn’t give up on the Romulans, only to hear his dad fire back with “So you’re giving up on us?”

She didn’t respond.

He remembered how quickly everything got worse after Admiral Picard resigned. He watched her wither away as she was finally home long enough for him to actually see it happen, as opposed to discovering it in the snapshots of her occasional visits. He felt confusion and hurt the time he had gone into her room while she was asleep and placed all the alcohol he could find in the reclamator, figuring if she didn’t have it accessible she’d be okay; only to be on the receiving end of the worst verbal tongue-lashing he had ever experienced, asking why he would hurt her like this and didn’t he care and what was he thinking. He felt his own anger and pain grow as there were more and more times he found her passed out, not certain where all the bottles were coming from; she hardly talked to Admiral Picard anymore, so they weren’t coming from there like they used to. He felt an icy wall build around his heart when he would come home late from being out with friends, and she was still surrounded by PADDs and holo-displays, drunkenly muttering about conspiracies and the Conclave of Eight. He hardened around his peers, getting to high school, hearing the whispered pity and the outward shaming about his crackpot mom and how far she had fallen. When his dad finally kicked her out, he couldn’t stop his heart from racing, nor could he stop the disgust he had for himself that he could still feel she was worth having around after _everything_ she’d put them through. He stood by the door as she approached, taking one more look at her, _really_ looking, hoping to find that hero from his memory. Searching the lifeless eyes, the grimace pulling tight across her features, the thin and drooping shoulders. He shifted slightly, causing her to jump and raise her head, making eye contact for what seemed like the first time in years, and he _hoped_. Hoped that light would show up in her eyes again, that she would look at him and come alive the way she did with her research, that she would see him and remember that he mattered. In a choked whisper, he begged, “Mom, say something. Please.”

He remembered his heart dying when she looked away before walking past him.

He forgot, for a while. Leaving home as soon as he was old enough, eventually finding his way to Freecloud. He had told his father he would keep in touch, but wouldn’t tell him where he was going; he didn’t want to risk leaving any type of trail that his mom might follow. He did his best to engage in anything and everything that wouldn’t remind him of home, to forge a new life and separate himself from the memories. He had to admit, learning Romulan had helped in the long run. After a long day sending him on autopilot, he crashed into someone turning the corner, someone who uttered a choice Romulan curse in response; as a reflex, he apologized in Romulan, automatically helping to pick up the packages that had been dropped by the stranger he had collided into. The surprised tone of voice, so much softer than the original swearing, led him to look up into the eyes of his future wife.

Their relationship grew quickly. He had to dance around his past some, but never lied to her. He simply spoke of the mother who was always working, who stopped being there for him and his father, who was never present mentally even if she was physically. He spoke of a mother whom he hadn’t seen or heard from in years, nor tried to contact because he, honestly, could not bring himself to try after all the pain her behaviors had caused. Pel was gentle with him, never pushed for more than he was willing to give the times they did discuss it, and eventually he felt some semblance of acceptance of the whole story. He believed that everything was okay now. He was far away, and life was looking up, and that collection of nightmarish memories never needed to be touched again.

But then he remembered all of it when she showed up on Freecloud. He felt everything drain out of him, that old, simmering anger coursing through him and coating him in near impenetrable armor. He ignored the tingle of surprise that her eyes seemed clear, if guarded. He swatted away the tickle of concern that she seemed a bit gaunt, that she still seemed so skittish, even around him. He heard her words, her admissions of her faults (that was a first), that promise of being clean (she’d tried that before) and that she was ready to be there for him. He felt that little child he’d left behind so long ago come alive in him, knew that the battle was visible in his face. _So_ many things he had longed to hear…but it wasn’t worth the risk. He knew he was being cruel. He knew he was pushing her on purpose. He wanted to prove that it was too good to be true. He _needed_ to prove it. Needed to, even though it hurt all over again when she responded _exactly_ the way he expected. He knew he was cutting her down with his words. He felt he couldn’t help himself.

And of course, Pel had to come out right then. He had never wanted them to meet. He knew without looking that Pel was questioning why his mom was here so suddenly, why he seemed so tense and curt, why his mom was crying and seemed so heartbroken, why the tension between them was so much sharper than he had ever painted in his narrative. So they had the conversation, both for him to get out all of the unexpected emotions, and for her to understand what had happened. He finally admitted to the drinking she shouldn’t have been doing, the silences when she should’ve fought for them, the final goodbye and the choice he made to leave it all behind. Again, Pel was gentle, accepting, comforting. Again, he thought he could leave it all behind.

Then the newsreels tore everything apart again: his mom had been _right_. About _all of it_.

He sat watching the coverage, the interviews, the images of his mom looking tired but _alive_. The way he remembered. Not the manic, hyperfixation as she chased another shadowy rabbit down some back-alley informant hole. Seeing her and Admiral Picard fielding questions, looking every bit the leading legends of Starfleet that they had been so many years before, that Starfleet (and he) had turned their backs on. And yet they still held themselves with humble comportment, confident without arrogance in the light of the vindication they had finally found.

He sat, numb. It was too much to take in. There was no way to grapple with all of it. This was how Pel found him, having just caught glimpses of footage on her way home; enough to recognize Gabe’s mother, and to finally put together that there were still very key pieces to the puzzle he had been withholding.

Their conversation was heated. Pel asked all the questions he had hoped to avoid. How could he not mention that his mother was _the_ Lieutenant Commander Rafaella Musiker, spearheading the desperate attempt to save _her_ people with _the_ legendary Admiral Jean Luc Picard? Why did he casually fail to mention that his “Uncle Luc” who seemed to encourage his mother’s “workaholic” nature was the man who chose to look past the deep bonds of mistrust between their species and see people worth saving? How could he not tell her, a Romulan, that his mother was the woman who poured her heart and soul into understanding and respecting the Romulan people and asking nothing in return? He grew angry, he yelled, he felt his defenses fly up full force as he tried to justify his rage and hurt as sufficient reason for the calculated deception and intentional hiding of information. As the fight piqued, Pel protectively held her stomach; surely the baby was unsettled by the argument, being housed within one of its contenders. In that moment, he remembered himself as a child, hiding beneath the covers of his bed, listening to the seemingly constant back and forth of his parents’ arguments ringing in his ears and eventually bleeding into his nightmares.

And he cried.

And he apologized. Falling to his knees, he apologized to Pel. Crawling slowly forward, he kissed her stomach, apologizing to their unborn daughter between sobs. It was all too much, and he couldn’t do it alone. Fortunately, not long after, a happy distraction finally made her appearance. In between periods of adoration of the beautiful new life they had created, they continued their apologies for losing composure. In the quiet moments of naptimes, he apologized for keeping secrets, explained his fears of what sharing the identity of his mom’s obsession was would do to their relationship. In the free nights where Pel’s parents happily offered to care for their new grandchild, she comforted him, reminded him that she didn’t think any less of the pain he had been through because of his mother’s actions. In the several stolen moments they could find, they drew closer to each other, patching tears and mending the little breaks recent events had caused. Enough so that when Pel stated – calmly, definitively, and only once – that she would like for their daughter to have the option of a relationship with her human grandmother if the opportunity presented itself, Gabe simply paused for several moments before nodding slowly. Pel smiled quietly. It was a small step, but it was enough.

Gabe had forgotten for nearly a year. Forgotten so deeply that he thought maybe, for the first time, he was genuinely free. It made all the difference that Pel knew the whole story. It made a difference that he had his daughter to focus on, to love and cherish and lavish with attention. He had his family, and the adventures that come with first-time parenthood were plenty to keep his mind firmly rooted in the present.

He was not prepared to be reminded. They were on vacation, their first family off-world trip. Sure, his daughter was too young to really remember anything, but it was the concept itself that mattered most. Gabe was wearing the baby in an outward facing carrier, allowing her to see and coo and flap her arms at any and everything, much to her parents’ delight. Today they were exploring a market: plenty of things to keep both women in his life occupied. Pel had wandered toward whatever stall had caught her attention while he brought his daughter closer to a stall of children’s toys. Her squeal of joy brought a bright smile to his face, followed by a laugh as she started to bounce in her carrier, reaching for a toy he had picked up. The fervor of her rocking was enough to cause his own body to rock in order to maintain balance.

He froze as her heard a more feminine echo of his laugh. Looking up, he saw the halo of curls first, as she had her back to him. Feeling his pulse pick up, he was frozen in place. Should he leave? Did he want to? Should he call out to her? Should he say something to Pel? As if responding to his panicked thought, he heard Pel’s voice shortly before feeling her gentle hand on his arm.

“Gabe? Gabe, honey, are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He looked down at her touch before quickly looking back up. Saw the curls bounce slightly as she stood upright. She had heard Pel, too. _Probably automatically responds to my name_ , he thought with a mix of bitterness and wonder.

Raffi turned and they made eye contact. He took in the sight of her, if for no reason other than to avoid figuring out what he was feeling and thinking. She looked good. Healthy. Vibrant, almost. And younger. He felt his jaw drop slightly; it almost was like seeing a ghost. This was the mom he remembered, longed for throughout his adolescence. He shook his head a little, closing his mouth and swallowing hard. Pel turned to see where he was looking. “Isn’t that…”

“Gabe?” Raffi called out. Gabe noticed someone step out from behind her. A blond woman, about his mom’s height, and for some reason vaguely familiar. He racked his brain for the memory…she had been at some of the interviews? One of the crew? He squinted a little, seeing something around her left eye. They were both walking his direction now, slowly, allowing him to get a clearer picture. _That’s right,_ he thought as the memory slipped into place, _there was a Borg woman on the crew._ His brow raised slightly. _A Borg woman who has her arm around my mother’s waist…_ Seeing that Gabe was clearly still not ready to speak, Raffi turned to address Pel. Gabe took the opportunity to try and come back to the present and figure out what was happening, what he needed to do, what he should and shouldn’t say.

He couldn’t shut off the gut reaction. The wounds were deep, and the guards he had in place to protect himself from them were very much active. He would _not_ let her back in. He would _not_ put his daughter at risk of dealing with the trauma of constantly shattered hopes that made up the majority of his childhood. She had messed up time and time again, promised over and over, and broken him more each time. His anger, while muted by the joys of the life he had built since leaving home, still lived.

He also couldn’t shut out that hopeful child inside that recognized _something_ was different about her. Her smile, though tentative, wasn’t strained. Her eyes were bright, alert, and open. He wanted to look into those eyes, to see if they would _see_ him now, really see him. The desire to believe that everything could be better now was _so_ strong in this part of him, he felt his throat tighten around a single word that he couldn’t quite allow himself to utter. To call her, to utter that single syllable that carried so much weight and meant so much to that little boy he had been. But not everything had changed. Those eyes, though lively, still seemed to dart about. Those shoulders, again pulled back with confidence, still held a nervous tension. He could see that edginess, an almost skittish air that had become her normal. But…it only became noticeable when she looked at him. He noticed she seemed more relaxed talking with Pel; even more so when she would look at the Borg woman.

The Borg woman who seemed to be watching him very closely. He couldn’t read anything in her expression, though he felt the urge to squirm under her scrutiny. Icy blue eyes bore into his own with intensity, but to what purpose he could not decide. He found himself trying to match them, partly out of pride and indignance, partly out of a childish protectiveness: _why do you have your arm around my mother?_

As he was buffeted about by his inner emotional three ring circus, he realized things had gone silent and that _all three women_ were now looking at him expectantly. He looked at his mom and Pel in turn, trying to figure out what he had missed.

“What do you think?” Pel asked patiently, knowing how overwhelmed Gabe was. While she didn’t want to overstep her bounds, she fully intended to make the most of this chance encounter and hopefully move her loving, if stubborn, husband one step closer to healing. “Could we meet up for breakfast tomorrow? If we do a fair amount of packing tonight, we might have time before the transport leaves,” she offered gently. It broke her heart to see the poorly contained hope in Raffi’s eyes; even though she was trying to nudge him in that direction, Pel knew the chances of Gabe being open to this were slim. Knew, and saw it confirmed in the darkening of his eyes as his brain caught up with what was said, an arm wrapping protectively around the unexpectedly quiet and observant baby backed up against his chest.

“That’s not an option unfortunately,” he responded, cold and curt. He didn’t offer any explanation, half-waiting for his mom to push the point. He watched her, could almost see the wheels turning, heard in his head that near-begging tone as she tried to convince him, tried to bend over backwards to get back into his good graces. The brow furrowed, jaw muscles tensing and relaxing, mouth beginning to open, and he was ready. Except nothing came. Instead she leaned ever-so-slightly into the Borg woman, closing her eyes briefly before nodding and offering him a sad smile.

“That’s okay, honey,” she said, her voice low and soothing. “We wouldn’t want to mess with your vacation. Maybe another time.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t begging. It was exactly what he had asked of her in those early attempts she had made to be in contact: to just leave him be.

He didn’t know how to respond. Shock and irritation battled in equal turns within him, along with a healthy dose of frustration at feeling this entire situation was out of his control. Realizing that he still wanted to be a decent human being and at least acknowledge her response, he simply nodded his head. The baby chose that moment to squirm restlessly, sounds of discontent gurgling with tiny bubbles from her lips.

“Looks like someone might need a change before we head back,” Pel observed out loud. She began to shoulder the baby bag, preparing to free her hands in order to retrieve the baby from the carrier on Gabe’s chest. Stopping mid-motion as a plan crystallized in her mind with rapid cunning, she looked at Raffi and handed her the bag, tilting her chin downward the slightest bit in question. Raffi blinked in surprise before taking the bag more as a reflex than with any conscious thought. Pel smiled her thanks before turning to work the buckles of the carrier.

“She tends to wriggle an awful lot during her diaper changes, especially in new places,” she explained casually as she worked. Looking over her shoulder at Raffi, she continued, “Would you mind giving me a hand? I still have to find a place to change her, and if I have to makeshift something, it would be easier with an extra pair of hands.”

Pel bit the inside of her lip gently to keep from smiling as she looked first at Raffi, then at Gabe, seeing identical wide-eyed, open-mouthed expressions of shock. They continued to look at her, then at each other, then back at her before vocalizations finally occurred.

“Pel, baby, we can’t bother them with-“

“Oh, I’m sure you’re more than capable-“

“We have nowhere to be, it’s no trouble at all.”

They all turned to look at Seven, silent until this moment. Pel shared a conspiratorial smirk, not missing the near invisible quirk of an eyebrow in response. Gabe glared at her with a mix of fear and irritation; a combination she was particularly accustomed to. Seven turned instead to look over at Raffi, giving an encouraging smile to try and calm the nervousness she found there. With a gentle pressure, she used the hand on Raffi’s back to guide her toward Pel, watching with fondness as they walked off.

As soon as she spoke, Gabe had decided he did not like this woman. When that cold gaze met his again, he had decided this woman probably couldn’t care less whether or not he existed, much less if he liked her.

But then she had looked at his mother, and he had to look away. The previously blank slate now radiated tenderness and affection, a gentle gaze that seemed to wrap his mother up in equal parts adoration and protection. Even in the best of his childhood memories, he had never seen that kind of look between his parents. A small part of him thawed; he was glad she had some good in her life, even if he was still somewhat mad at himself for feeling that way.

The moment was lost though as he found himself alone now with this intimidating creature, whose face had returned to its previous statuesque stoicism. He still didn’t even know her name, assumed that he had missed introductions while he was still caught in the maelstrom in his mind. She continued to stand there, no indication of speaking, moving, so incredibly still he would think she had died somehow if he hadn’t heard her speak moments before. Life continued around them, and he desperately wanted to join in and escape the rapidly increasing discomfort he was experienced.

“You and my mother,” he finally said, just to do something. There had been no intended direction with the words, he realized. His body temperature seemed to be climbing as his stomach seemed to be dropping. He hadn’t felt this nervous since his dad had caught him sneaking into a stash of Risan anniversary chocolates that had been special ordered for his mom; it wasn’t _his_ fault that his dad was a lousy hider and that he had inherited his mother’s persistence and deductive prowess. He would gladly go back to that moment if it would take him out from under the penetrative gaze of this woman, whose brow and implant raised ever so slowly in questioning judgement. After squirming for a few seconds more, he realized she was waiting for him to continue speaking. “…seem…close?”

His embarrassment knew no bounds.

Without so much as a perceptible shift in muscle tension, her facial expression somehow went from nonchalant interest to irritated resignation. Letting out an exasperated sigh, she finally moved, taking a pointed stance with her hands behind her back. Gabe felt smaller than he had in years.

“Inevitable awkwardness of the first meeting between offspring and parental significant other notwithstanding,” she began coolly, as if delivering a lecture. “Let me simply say that as someone who cares very deeply for your mother, I don’t intend to stand by and watch her get hurt.”

Gabe blinked a few times, trying to dissect what on first hearing appeared to be a very straightforward sentiment. But there was something about the look in her eye, the line of her stance, the subtle upward tilt of her chin that was…accusatory? _She intends to protect her? From ME?_ The seed of indignance nestled in the core of his being revived, growing steadily as his own gaze hardened with his measured, angry inhale.

“As far as I’m concerned, her getting hurt was rarely ever the issue,” he nearly spat out. “In fact, she seemed plenty focused on what she wanted throughout most of my memory.” He thought he maybe saw her jaw clench momentarily in reaction, but nothing more. Reading her came as easily to him as teaching a Ferengi altruism.

“I won’t debate you on mistakes made in the past. Raffi is well aware of those and would not begrudge you your feelings in response to them.” Her tone made it clear she was not as fully convinced.

“How very generous of her,” came his snide response, making even him wince internally. He hadn’t intended to become petty about this. But feeling chastised by someone who was to him a complete stranger, in defense of his own mother? The perceived audacity seemed to merit the response. Her metallic eyebrow raised sharply once more.

“As I said,” she intoned steadily. “How you were affected by her choices is not to be minimized. And while the way you respond to those choices now,” again, her tone and subtle tilt of her head made _very_ clear what she thought of his responses, “may indicate how deeply they affected you, it would be wise to consider their appropriateness in this setting.”

Despite his still rising irritation, he knew she was right. Pel had talked with him over those several weeks, trying to help him separate the impact of the emotion from the actions he took in the moment. To be called out by someone who apparently meant a significant amount to his mother, and whom he’d known for a handful of very uncomfortable minutes, was certainly humbling. However, he was a proud man, coming from a solid stock of proud individuals, and he wasn’t ready to go down just yet. Particularly not before this overly formal interloper with her condescending speech, inserting herself into _their_ family issues.

“You make it sound so simple. Like I can just…flip a switch, and shut all these feelings, these thoughts, these _memories_ off, just because it’s more ‘appropriate’,” he countered bitterly. “I would _love_ to not have this reaction every time I see her. I would _love_ to be free of all those years of…” he stopped, throat tightening as the emotion was getting the better of him. These were the emotions he held back: the sadness, the longing, the hope, all shattered. His eyes burned as the internal tension begged for release. Instead, he turned back to the relative safety, familiarity of anger and resentment. “Do you have _any_ idea what it’s like to carry the weight of someone else’s mistakes? The scars of your _parent’s_ mistakes? The one’s that are supposed to protect you from all of that?”

“My parents’ mistake led to me being assimilated by the Borg on my 6th birthday,” she responded casually, making to examine the tips of her tritanium-laced fingers as one would a manicure before raising her gaze to re-establish eye contact with him. To describe his physical response as “deflated” was putting it mildly. Gabe _shriveled_. Looking away briefly, his mouth trying to form words as one hand clumsily made its way to rub the back of his neck as he floundered, looking for a way to slink out of the molten lava of mortification he had just stumbled in. When he looked back up, he blinked in confusion. She was _smiling_ at him?

“You look a lot like your mother when you’re caught offguard,” she offered gently, eyes softening as her words and inflection shifting into something far more affectionate that the direct speech she had offered to this point. Given the debacle he had barely escaped, he thought it wise not to respond. Instead he let the feelings the comment evoked roil around internally, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. If he was honest, his primary emotion was having no idea how to feel. And while the comfortable old anger whispered tantalizing beneath the swirl of colors and words, he had to admit being tired of riding that tumultuous wave. _But if I don’t stay angry…_ He could feel other sensations beginning to emerge, reactions and responses he avoided with every fiber of his being.

“Gabriel.” He looked up hearing his name, not realizing his gaze had drifted to the ground. The woman looked past him briefly before shifting minutely to look at him. “I understand the emotional consequences that come as a result of dealing with the choices of others. Your way of handling that is yours alone.” Gabe found himself drawn in suddenly. Her speech, while having reverted to formal and distant, was still somehow softer, and…pleading? “However, you must realize that you cannot judge who she is now based on what she did then. You aren’t required to have a relationship if you truly do not want it, but I ask that you be considerate of how you might communicate such things.” Her eyes shifted just over his shoulder. He could only assume his mother and Pel were returning. Unsure of how much time he actually had left to consider her words, he stopped thinking and reached for something he had long forgotten about.

_“Do you know who else is named Gabriel baby?” His little eyes lit up; he liked when mama talked about their names._

_“Da angel!” he squealed excitedly, placing an open palm on her chest with an exuberant slap. “Jus like mama!” She laughed, taking the hand from her chest and showering it with kisses, making him giggle._

_“That’s right, sweetie! And do you know why your gran’ma gave me an angel’s name, and why I gave you an angel’s name?” He plopped backward to sit fully on her lap, his face twisting into intense toddler concentration._

_“We gots angels in us to help us be good peoples, and we gots to listen to our angels ‘cause dey tell us how to help peoples when dey gets lost,” he proclaimed solemnly. Then he smiled because mama smiled real big._

_“You got it,” she said before kissing him on the nose. “And they’ll always help us when we get lost, too, so long as you listen real close, okay? Don’t forget that.”_

He reached for that angel as he looked back at the Borg woman, feeling something fall into place inside him. It must have reached his eyes, as he swore he caught her brow lift somewhat in response.

“It’s hard,” he said levelly.

“I know.” This with a small nod.

“I’ll do my best,” he declared. That smirk returned, and he found his own responding.

“That’s all I ask.” And then her eyes seemed to light up. Gabe turned just as his mother passed his side, returning to hers. His mother gave her a quick kiss, own eyes brightly dancing. He heard a quiet, “Miss me?” as the other woman’s arm wrapped around her waist again before responding “Always.”

He considered them as Pel worked on returning the baby to the confines of the carrier on his chest. She was happy. Happier than he’d seen her since his early years. So was he. They could both be allowed that, right?

“We should probably go, _e’lev_ ,” Pel said quietly, pulling him from his reflection. “She’ll need a nap soon.”

“Babe, did you tell mom her name?” Pel looked into his eyes, suddenly noticing the change. She was very aware of his neutral tone of voice, an unheard-of occurrence when discussing his mother.

“Only her nickname,” she answered noncommittally, not explaining that she felt it more appropriate that Raffi hear the name from her son; he had chosen it, after all. She turned toward Raffi and Seven once the baby was sufficiently buckled.

“Raffi, thank you for your help,” she spoke cheerfully, walking over to offer a hug. It did her heart good to see how excited the woman was as she gleefully returned the embrace. Stepping back, she offered a hand to the Ranger, figuring her to be more reserved with her affection. “And it was wonderful to meet you, Seven.”

“Likewise,” Seven responded with a grateful smirk and a firm grip. She then turned toward Gabe, giving him a simple nod as she reached for Raffi’s hand before the awkward tension grew too thick. Gabe saw his mom’s hand squeeze tight. Looking into her face, he could see the restraint she was exercising, felt a twinge of guilt run through him in response…and silently asked for her forgiveness. He simply wasn’t ready.

“It was good seeing you, Gabe,” she said, unable to entirely hide the crack in her voice as she fought to hold back tears. He lowered his gaze to the ground again as she turned, the pair beginning to walk away. Pel squeezed his arm gently, beginning to pull him in the opposite direction. He resisted, the conversation he had just had still ringing in his mind.

“Mom,” he called out, finally able to speak the single word that had struggled, captive, in his throat this entire time. He saw her back stiffen before she quickly turned back toward him. “The baby…her full name is Ael’theirr Michaela.” He couldn’t stop a small smile seeing her free hand fly to her mouth, the tears now being released from their prison in joy rather than sorrow.

“Seven,” he said, remembering he needed to thank Pel for inadvertently providing him with the Borg woman’s… _mom’s girlfriend’s_ …name. “Take care of her.” He watched Seven’s face morph into smug smirk, with a definite twinkle in her eye.

“I’ll do my best.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. Turning, he put an arm around Pel and pulled her close, laying a gentle kiss on her head as they began their return walk.

“Must’ve been an interesting talk with that Ranger,” Pel probed innocently. Gabe laughed.

“We came to an arrangement,” he quipped. Looking down at her only to be greeted by an irritated pout that he wasn’t being more forthcoming, he smiled before leaning over to kiss it away. Pel’s gaze softened but she huffed lightly, informing him he was not out of the woods just yet. Gabriel could accept that. After feeling that hint of connection with that “angel” inside of him, subdued and ignored for so long, he could accept ‘yet.’ And maybe even hope again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nod to Thimblerig, whose [Big Gran’ma Energy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23469274) is absolutely wonderful. :)
> 
> Chapter 2 will be from Raffi’s perspective (so yes, we’ll get the conversation between Pel and Raffi!)
> 
> Romulan lovingly acquired from [English-Rihannsu Dictionary](http://mrklingo.freeshell.org/romulan/engtorihan.html)
> 
> e’lev – “my love”
> 
> Ael – winged
> 
> theirr – guardian
> 
> So Ael’theirr would be an approximation of “angel”
> 
> As always, comments appreciated! <3


	2. Road to Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was happily surprised by the response to the first chapter, but it also ended up making this one a little bit harder to write. Hopefully this lives up to the standard! There is some history influence from the Picard novel “The Last Best Hope” which I started reading shortly after posting the first chapter, and finished as I started writing this chapter, but nothing so involved as to require having read it for this story to make sense.
> 
> Side note: No offense intended to anyone name Gertrude. It was simply the first name that came to mind when I was trying to picture someone/a name that seemed the absolute antithesis to Raffi as we know her.
> 
> Content warning: emotional loss of a child, past alcoholism/addiction, and all the conflicting emotions that come with living through that.

She tried not to let it distract her. She really did. That last several days had been a lot emotionally. Sure, the crew was enjoying the downtime they had come upon between deliveries and occasional battles and JL’s “missions” of mercy or exploration or whatever whim seized him that day. How the man still managed to get them all involved in these absurd adventures when he wasn’t Starfleet anymore, or even the captain of this vessel, was beyond her. They all gathered for one of their communal meals and were simply enjoying each other’s company when someone brought up that they were coming up on a year together.

It got quiet then. Everyone became reflective. A year since Dahj had been murdered and Soji learned the truth about who and what she was. A year since Rios had been forced to face, very directly, the reality behind the tragedy that had ended his Starfleet career. A year since Elnor had left the only home he’d ever known and had to witness the death (albeit temporary for Picard) of the first two he had served as _qalank’khai,_ since Agnes’ brain was flipped inside out and she murdered her lover as a result, and since Seven had gotten long-awaited justice, only to turn around and deal with the death of thousands more in her couple breaths’ as a Borg Queen. A year since Picard had returned to his beloved space and had _died_ and was turned into a synth for his troubles.

It was a silent moment. It was solemn. And it was warm. Without speaking, each member of the family looked up at another and smiled slowly. The pain was still there, the echoes would likely last for several years more if they ever truly dissipated. But the overwhelming bulk of their stories now were filled with laughter, adventure, healing, and each other. It had unexpectedly turned into a feast of giving thanks: for surviving, for thriving, and for family.

And so the next few days were filled with stories. Anecdotes of near-misses, recounting of epic saves, sharing of tender moments, classic blunders, mistakes, and apologies: everything was fair game. Raffi tried to be present, she did. And for the most part, she was. But there was a gaping hole that she would never be able to ignore, one that had only grown bigger a year ago, despite all the joy and connection she had found at the same time.

It had been a year since she last saw Gabe, and learned of a granddaughter she held no hopes of meeting.

She pondered this in her quarters, curled up on the couch for a brief moment of respite. When she had left the bridge, the crew was re-enacting what had been for all of them a proud family moment around Elnor successfully surprising Soji for her birthday. It was no easy task for one whose entire existence was brought up around never telling a lie, and he accomplished it phenomenally. Between the dramatic re-telling and Elnor’s ever deepening blush, Raffi couldn’t handle the surge of emotion and affection that brought with it the images of her son so far away in so many ways. Sneaking out as Rios attempted to execute Elnor’s gymnastic excellence in avoiding a face-to-face encounter with Soji (played by a nearly doubled-over Agnes, who could not contain her laughter), Raffi knew it would be some time before they noticed her absence.

Well. Most of them.

She also knew Seven would give her time before coming to check on her, for which she was grateful. This relationship with Seven had been more than she ever could have asked for; more than she ever deserved, if she was honest with herself. _Though she does a good job of trying to convince me otherwise_ , she admitted with a soft smile, hugging her knees tighter as she let the positive energy from that thought wash over her. In an attempt to ride the wave, she cast her thoughts in the direction of how unexpected a gift it had been. It was amazing to have someone who could understand you with so little effort. When there were those moments where words had no chance at capturing what was happening in the very core of your being, having someone who with just one look…knew. And despite all her own faults, Raffi understood that she provided Seven with that same safe harbor. There was no darkness one could possibly hold that would cause the other to shy away. To be seen so fully and still be loved and cherished…sure, the casual and easy camaraderie was enjoyable, the intense and passionate intimacy even more so. Yet whereas those things in and of themselves marked great relationships, her unique encounter with this fascinating woman seemed to have gone far beyond. A _good_ partner was a breath of fresh air; most days with Seven felt like breathing a rarefied air of transcendence.

As if summoned by her mental waxing poetic, the door to their quarters slid open. No eye contact, no conversation was needed. Raffi simply shifted forward slightly, scrunching up smaller as Seven wriggled in behind her against the arm of the couch. Sliding one leg between her and the back of the couch, the other bent with foot planted comfortably on the floor, Seven settled gently to create a nest of warmth for her to lean into. Not entirely ready to unfurl (if she did, this tightness in her chest would finally pop open, and she wasn’t ready for that, not just yet), she shimmied her way back gently. There was a quiet chuckle as warm hands grasped her hips, helping guide her back. Seven leaned forward slightly to close the gap between them and mold herself fully against the curved back before her, resting her chin on Raffi’s shoulder and worming her arms around her lover’s waist.

Together, and entirely unintentionally, they breathed a deep sigh of peace. This… _this_ was how Raffi knew she was so unfairly blessed. This sense of completion, even in the darkest moments. It was a strange juxtaposition, that the comfort and wholeness that came with the embrace also freed and enhanced the ache she had been shoving down, ignoring valiantly over the past few days. Screwing her eyes tightly shut, Raffi embraced the burn of the tears that had been building, rested her head against Seven’s.

“I miss him,” she whispered hoarsely. She felt a warm tear against her cheek, having escaped Seven’s eye.

“Me too.”

The old ache washed over them then as they allowed their grief over lost sons, unique to each yet similar enough to be grasped and shared, to runs its course. Holding each other in a pain that was its own powerful bond between them, having found a way to do so that didn’t lead to bitterness or destruction, but rather a forged connection the further lent itself to a depth of understanding and acceptance that Raffi had never experienced before. It was a tragically beautiful haven, a place all their own made even the most devastating loss survivable.

Before long, tears began to try, breathing settling into comforting synchrony. Raffi took the occasion to bask in the very essence of love and peace that seemed to encapsulate them, unhurried to address the memories that drove her to seek refuge in the first place. Unafraid as well, held tightly in the arms of by far one of the fiercest and most protective fighters in at least three quadrants.

“I think one of the most confusing moments I had last year was realizing I had been right all along,” she opened, gently parting the curtain of companionable silence. “I don’t know what I expected to feel. But I at least expected _something_.”

“It was a long time to wait for vindication. Particularly at such a high cost.” Seven smiled as Raffi relaxed, releasing her knees and leaning back into Seven, who in turn leaned slowly back into the arm of the couch. Raffi draped her arms over Seven’s around her waist, signaling her gratitude for the woman’s calming presence.

“I think maybe it was the cost that got me, ya know?” Raffi queried calmly. “I think I had known from the moment JL asked me to be his XO that I was gonna lose either way. The mission was so astronomical in scope that I knew I was going to be straining any relationships I already had just to try and put the whole damn thing together, much less actually carry it out. And at the same time, I would have lost a part of myself knowing I didn’t give everything I had to save _millions_ of lives when I had the opportunity to do something. How could I look my son in the eye, teach him how to be a good man and to do what was right, after turning my back on an entire civilization because it was going to cost me?” Raffi shook her head with a heavy sigh, as if feeling the weight of the decision to be made all over again. “No, I couldn’t…” she trailed off. When she didn’t pick back up after several moments, Seven tilted her head to the side, allowing herself at least a peripheral view of Raffi’s expression, which was lost in memory. After a few moments more, she gave a gentle squeeze around Raffi’s waist, watched as the pressure pulled her back to the present.

“Did I ever tell you the story behind my name?”

Seven’s implant arched slightly, thrown off by the rather abrupt change of topic. “I don’t believe that has come up in conversation as of yet.” Raffi smiled as nostalgia filled her.

“My mother always told me that I was born a scrappy little thing. She said that they had been expecting me to be small, but nowhere near as spunky as I was…apparently I was a spitfire from my first breath!” Raffi felt a warmth spread in her chest as she felt Seven chuckle behind her. “It took them a while to clean me off because I wouldn’t stop squirming. When the finally got me swaddled and into mama’s arms, she opened her mouth to give them the name…I think she said I was originally going to be Gertrude or something?” Now Raffi laughed as she felt Seven bodily flinch.

“That…would not have fit you quite as well,” Seven delivered in as neutral a tone as she could muster.

“Mama agreed. She always told me that as soon as I opened my eyes, she saw this…this _light_ , she always called it.” Raffi’s voice dropped somewhat, taking on tone that was somehow a mix of reverence and cynicism. “She said that she saw in me a tremendous gift, a gift to heal and to guide…to ‘help the blind see and the fearful have courage.’ ‘It was as if the great angel Raphael of old had touched you from heaven,’ she said. So I went from almost being Gertrude to being Rafaella.” She gave a brief snort of derision. “Some healing guide I turned out to be.”

Despite all the sincerity and conviction she felt in the sentiment, Seven knew that if she chose the moment to inform Raffi that she had been precisely that divine, healing, angelic presence in the Ranger’s brutal and tragic life, it would likely be brushed aside; Raffi was not yet ready to see herself in such a light. Filing it away for later use, she sought more concrete examples to give her self-effacing companion, striving to imbue them with the same conviction and emotion that she felt in her more subjective perspective.

“Picard often turned to you for guidance. Rios does as well. Elnor and Agnes have come to you for comfort. I would never hesitate to turn to you for either,” she couldn’t help but add. Her reward was a soft blush on a cheek so close, she felt obliged to kiss it. “And I’m certain thousands of Romulans would feel the same way.”

“In any case,” Raffi continue, unable to hide the shy smile in her voice. “I always thought she must’ve been delirious with a story like that, until I was in her position. And when I saw that dark mop of hair and those bright, beautiful eyes…” she leaned her head against Seven’s as her voice cracked, another tear escaping. “I was filled with so much _hope_. Like maybe…maybe there was a way to make a difference, you know? And so I named him Gabriel.” She stopped speaking for a brief bit, letting memories of those early, early days play through.

“I used to tell him that we had a responsibility to…to really _listen_ to those angels inside of us. That my mama had seen it in me and I saw it in him, and that we were special in that way.” Raffi shifted, just enough to be able to look into Seven’s eyes. “I think I knew that helping with the evacuation was the only way I could really show him that I meant what I’d preached to him all those years. I fully believed that one day, even if he was mad for a while, he’d be able to understand that.”

Seven saw conviction in Raffi’s eyes and felt pride swell in her own. It said something about the journey Raffi had made in the past year that she was able to come to that peace, to see that regret laid to rest. “I would agree that that’s a reasonable conclusion.” Raffi smiled before giving her a quick kiss, soaking up the little victory while she could. Knowing it wouldn’t last long as the story continued.

“But I let him down after that, Seven,” came the broken whisper. “When everything came crashing down after JL resigned? It was…I couldn’t…” she reached up, covering her face with both hands as the sobs began. She was removed enough now to be able to look back at the years she had lost, to see what had happened and begin to understand. What started as drowning the pain and disappointment with the alcohol and snakeleaf, at some point turned into not really being able to function without it. Between the withdrawals and the haunting, tormented voices constantly reminding her of what had been lost…she had tried to quit using, to be certain, but it never lasted long. She had never stopped searching for those answers, never stopped trying to piece together what had gone so terribly, horribly wrong; but she also couldn’t focus with the crushing weight of failure, the pain of the lives lost, the gaping void of wondering what she was supposed to do now. She had to keep all of that _quiet_ somehow if she was going to find the answer, and the quiet only came with another drink, another hit…

And then the day she had to leave, her husband having had enough and kicking her out of the house? Seeing Gabe’s pleading eyes as she approached the door? He had said something, but she was ashamed to admit she had been too far gone already that day to even process what it was, much less remember it. All she knew was that she had fallen so far, she didn’t feel she had the right to look into those beautiful, hopeful eyes anymore. Disgraced, she averted her gaze and walked by him.

Distantly she noticed a steady rocking motion, along with a gentle melody that physically seemed close even as mentally it ranged on the outer edge of her hearing. Gravitating toward the sounds and sensation, she felt herself being pulled back to the present. She became aware of Seven’s gentle, soothing swaying, her voice humming softly by her ear even as she could feel the vibrations in the lips lightly resting on her temple. Allowing herself to fully relax into the comforting embrace, her breathing evened out slowly, and she was able to simply enjoy the tender care she was being given.

Seven breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the quivering body against her still. It had been a double-edged sword, the emotional vulnerability that Raffi had quietly nurtured within her. Feeling more alive than she ever had before also meant uncovering a depth of empathy she didn’t realize she had been capable of, and one particularly sensitive to this family with which she had thrown in her lot. Seeing this strong, confident, capable woman in pain, and knowing it was a pain no spoken balm could ease, the xB found long-forgotten maternal instincts emerging from the deepest recesses of her psyche. At another time, she might marvel at this discovery that there were parts of her humanity that even assimilation could not touch, but for now she had a very wounded heart to tend to.

“I knew I had hurt him, when I left,” Raffi choked out, her voice raspy from her crying. “I had hoped…when I realized I could get to him on Freecloud, I had hoped that maybe, just maybe, if I could prove that everything was better, that _I_ was better, we could…” she gestured vaguely, realizing now how ridiculous the “plan” she’d had that day actually was. “…pick up where we left off? As if that had been any kind of place to start from.”

“You were trying, Raffi. Don’t belittle the value in that.” Raffi huffed in response, a slight pout of her lip as she put up at least a token resistance to the validation. Seven smiled patiently; similar conversations had gone between them multiple times – in both directions. Both were working hard to see the value in themselves that shone so plainly in the eyes of ones that loved. “Your encounter on Freecloud…may have been too soon for him, yes. And in the end, you can’t decide for him when he is ready, or what to do when he is. For now, all you can do is continue to be Raffi…the respected, admirable, amazing example you have always wanted to be for him. And _when_ he is ready,” Seven emphasized eventuality over possibility, “you will be available.”

“I don’t know, Seven,” came the pensive response. “I never really realized just how deep it ran until I saw him on Freecloud. He didn’t hold back…and I can’t blame him. Could I ever really deserve to be a part of his life…a part of my granddaughter’s…after all that?”

There was no response. Shifting again to where she could see Seven face, Raffi smiled, laughing softly in surprise. What never made it into words burned as a fierce, protective passion in Seven’s eyes. She made no attempt to fight off the resultant blush under that gaze, feeling as if for that moment she were the only thing that mattered in all of Seven’s universe. The ache faded into the background as she leaned in to respond with a slow, lingering kiss: equally silent, equally communicative in her feelings and appreciation for this woman in her life.

When they broke apart, Seven noticed the hint of sadness still lingering in those warm, hazel eyes. Present enough that returning to the crew would simply aggravate a still raw wound. At this point, even just remaining on the ship would be a constant reminder. _A significantly distracting alternative is required_ , posited the Ranger as she ran through the possibilities.

“Let’s go shopping.”

Raffi blinked at her. _Do ex-Borg get fevers?_ She gently cradled Seven’s face in both hands, turning it left and right to search for any indication that something was wrong. The sardonic smirk on the Ranger’s face _seemed_ to indicate she was feeling fine.

“Shopping.”

“Yes.”

“Since when do you shop?” Seven was having a hard time maintaining her composure as a laugh caught in her throat. _At least I have achieved the desired distraction…_

“I am not opposed to the activity.”

Raffi squinted at her slightly, suspicious of that playful twinkle in the otherwise sedate blue eyes. “Why do I feel like you’re up to something?” Seven shrugged innocently.

“I believe a change of scenery is in order. Soji and Agnes apparently found several items of interest at some bazaar or another down on the planet. Perhaps we would have similar luck.”

Raffi continued to scrutinize Seven’s cat swallowed the canary expression but found herself hard-pressed to dig too far. An outing did sound appealing. One with just the two of them sounded fantastic.

“Okay,” she drawled, still trying (and failing) to hold back a smile. “Let’s go shopping.”

***

_This is just what the doctor ordered,_ Raffi mused happily, munching on yet another treat from an unsuspecting food vendor. It was not often she had the opportunity to use her intelligence operative skills in the fine art of haggling. Some might call it an unfair advantage; she preferred to see it as leveling the playing field.

“If I had known all you needed was a snack to feel better, I would have fed you much sooner,” Seven teased. She felt some pity for the merchants she had unleashed the silver-tongued OPS officer on, who found themselves uncertain what had just transpired as Raffi walked away with far greater portions of whatever was being peddled at a far lower fee than they remembered originally setting. Not that Seven was complaining, as she licked the last spot of sauce off her finger.

“None of that from you, or you won’t be getting any of that dessert looking thing I plan on picking up on our way back,” Raffi scolded playfully, as she started eyeing some interesting fabrics, immediately imagining what pattern might work best as a new set of robes for Elnor. Seven chuckled, enjoying Raffi’s enjoyment. Moments later, she was engaged in intense conversation with the cloth merchant regarding his wares and their appropriate uses. Seven let her attention drift, having little use or interest in textile management, considering possibilities with the aforementioned dessert… _I wonder if they have something similar to a strawberry flavor…_

“I’ll take your silence as a yes?”

Seven snapped to attention, consulting her internal chronometer and quickly scanning for any indication of what she was agreeing to. After confirming she had lost focus for a mere 8 seconds, she finally took stock of the curtain of garish colors that Raffi was holding in front of her. Looking back up into Raffi’s eyes and seeing the mischievous gleam there, she knew she had been caught. Raising an eyebrow in question as much as in admission of defeat, the responding gleam and victorious smirk grew.

“I was asking, oh day-dreaming one,” Raffi taunted, knowing full well she was one of the few who would even recognize the lack of attentiveness in Seven’s eyes, much less be lucky enough to catch it, “if you thought this would suit Agnes.” Now both Seven’s brows raised drastically.

“If you want her to look like a sentient bioluminescent carrot, sure,” she dead-panned in response. Raffi threw her head back in laughter before tossing the fabric back on the table.

“Gabe? Gabe, honey, are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Raffi straightened immediately, frozen. She saw that Seven was on alert as well. _What are the chances…a Terran name this far into the Beta quadrant…_

Raffi turned and saw him. Their eyes met and for a moment she _knew_ she had to be dreaming. This couldn’t be real, right? She and Seven had _just_ been talking about him, so this was clearly all in her head. He couldn’t be here, right in front her, with his wife standing there, and _her granddaughter on his chest_.

“Gabe?” she called out as she felt Seven move to her side, grateful for the steady arm now around her waist. It didn’t completely halt the panic that was occurring in her brain, but it did make it to where she could walk forward with a reasonable guarantee she wouldn’t fall flat on her face and make a fool of herself. She noticed his gaze seemed to shift slightly, no longer looking at her, and for a moment her heart began to break. _God, he can’t even look at me._ Then she noticed the brow raise, swore she felt that comforting hand on her waist grip a little tighter. Turning to take a quick look at Seven’s features, she swallowed what would have been a hysterical giggle: _my son and my girlfriend are sizing each other up, and somehow I’m supposed to believe this is real life._

“Pel, it’s so good to see you,” she finally managed, collecting herself. Pulling on every ounce of Starfleet training she had ever received, every diplomatic encounter she ever had to sweet talk her way through, she tried to herd her rapidly scattering brain cells into something functional.

“You as well, Rafaella,” Pel responded sweetly, genuineness present in her tone. Raffi relaxed a little; she half expected to have been demonized in Pel’s eyes, convinced that surely Gabe had shared what a horrible mother she had been to him after their encounter at the family clinic.

“Oh please, honey, just Raffi is fine,” she offered with a wave of her hand. Gently placing the hand on Seven’s stomach to draw her attention from the silent showdown briefly, she smiled as the gaze softened to polite openness and shifted toward Pel. “This is Seven. And this is Gabe’s wife, Pel.” Seven nodded in acknowledgement, brow raising slightly at the impish grin resting on Pel’s features.

“An honor, Seven. Do go easy on him, would you?” Pel gave a ghost of a wink, to which Seven offered her own conspiratorial smirk. _Attentive, this one,_ Seven thought cheerfully. _It appears Raffi has an unexpected ally._

Raffi had not missed the exchange, feeling even more overwhelmed by what was occurring. Before she could spiral any further into the insanity of the moment, a chorus of gurgles grabbed her attention as she finally took a good long look at her granddaughter, beaming brightly from her carrier. Raffi’s heart melted. Those dark brown eyes seemed to stare straight into her soul, guileless, curious. Raffi gave her a smile, waggling her fingers in greeting. The baby smiled unabashedly in return, little limbs flailing gently.

“She’s beautiful, Pel,” Raffi whispered in awe, words thick with emotion.

“Thank you,” Pel responded just as quietly, seeing the admiration and love radiating freely from her mother-in-law. “I’m fairly certain she’ll end up with your curls, to be honest…her hair can be unruly on the best of days.” She almost laughed for the unrestrained delight in Raffi’s face at the comment. _How it would bring my heart joy to see our family whole!_ she thought, feeling her own ache at the distance she had maintained from the beautiful soul before her, out of respect for her husband’s wounds and journey toward healing.

“Well, if it does ever get out of hand, you can…” Raffi trailed off, having been about to offer that Pel could contact her at any time. She looked up briefly at Gabe, who still hadn’t said a word. That brief glance was enough to raise her anxiety, fear that she was again overstepping her bounds in this unplanned interaction. Another gentle squeeze at her side, another quick glance at Seven, and she was anchored again. With a deep breath, she looked back at Pel, smiling apologetically.

“I would gladly take any guidance you would be willing to give,” Pel offered, again feeling deeply for this woman, seeing gratitude shining brightly in those sad, vulnerable eyes. Raffi shook her head as if clearing her thoughts.

“How long are you all here?” she asked, trying not to sound too excited. “La Sirena will be in orbit for another day or so…maybe we could meet up, spend some time together?” Raffi quickly looked over at Seven, hoping it appeared to be her asking for the woman’s opinion on the matter when she desperately just needed the strength and support, reassurance that she wasn’t making a mistake. The xB was busy maintaining full intimidation mode however, which in and of itself made Raffi smile, though she did catch the tiniest nod meant just for her.

Pel smiled cheerily; it was hard not to get caught up in Raffi’s enthusiasm, try as she might to temper it. “I think it would be wonderful. We are leaving tomorrow, but perhaps in the morning?” She turned to look at Gabe, whose eyes had become slightly unfocused, his thoughts pulling him from what appeared to be a staring contest with Seven.

The silence continued. Realizing her son was no longer actively staring down her partner, Raffi looked over to Seven, who simply shrugged nonchalantly. They both looked at Pel, who sighed in affectionate resignation before gently clearing her throat. This seemed to do the trick as Gabe regained himself, looking back and forth between Raffi and Pel in utter confusion.

“What do you think?” Pel asked patiently. “Could we meet up for breakfast tomorrow? If we do a fair amount of packing tonight, we might have time before the transport leaves,” she offered gently.

Raffi knew she was holding her breath, even though she told herself not to. She knew she was getting her hopes up, shooting for a miracle, even when she knew that simply wasn’t how life worked. Unless, apparently, you were Jean Luc Picard… _maybe some of that JL magic rubbed off on me,_ she couldn’t help but pray. After all, he wasn’t yelling at her. Granted, he hadn’t spoken to her at all, but she was going for whatever small victory she could grasp. _At least he isn’t giving me that look-_

Her heart sank into a black hole as his eyes hardened, going cold and dark like they had when she saw him on Freecloud. Swallowing hard, she held herself as best she could, feeling the tightening in her throat as she wanted to cry out in pain.

“That’s not an option unfortunately,” came the short, terse reply. He looked at her directly now, waiting. She felt the intensity of his guardedness, staring across what seemed an impossible chasm between them. _I put that there,_ an accusing voice in her brain reminded her. Her entire body tensed, words chasing each other in chaotic flurry through her head, wanting to beg and plead and make promises, wanting _so badly_ to not lose this opportunity. All of her emotions were on the verge of pouring forth in desperation when an unassuming thumb lightly brushed against her side. _Be Raffi…the respected, admirable, amazing example you have always wanted to be for him._

With that gentle encouragement sounding in her mind, she leaned slightly into Seven, closing her eyes at the solace the contact brought. _He deserves his space, Raff,_ she told herself. _When he’s ready…_ she reminded herself, trying very hard not to think about when, _if_ , that ever would happen. Nodding more to herself than anything, she smiled softly.

“That’s okay, honey. We wouldn’t want to mess with your vacation. Maybe another time.” A battle seemed to break out within her, part of her desperately grasping for control rather than leaving everything in his hands. The other part, equally wounded and utterly terrified, simply kept replaying all of the tragic memories of her previous attempts to wrest control. Focusing on the arm wrapped around her that at this point seemed to literally be grounding her, she felt some of the tension release as the intensity in Gabe’s eyes seemed to lessen. He eventually nodded, and shortly after the tiny being strapped to him decided she had gone long enough not being the center of attention.

“Looks like someone might need a change before we head back,” Pel commented, moving to shift the bag she was carrying onto her shoulder. She paused suddenly, then turned to offer the bag to Raffi. Raffi reflexively grabbed it, blinking in confusion.

“She tends to wriggle an awful lot during her diaper changes, especially in new places,” Pel explained as she worked to release the baby from the confines of her carrier. She then glanced fleetingly at Raffi: “Would you mind giving me a hand? I still have to find a place to change her, and if I have to makeshift something, it would be easier with an extra pair of hands.”

Raffi’s jaw dropped. When she finally turned to look at Gabe, it was like looking into a mirror. After a moment, she began to babble something in response, her own rapid words overlapping with his, before a steady, low voice interrupted.

“We have nowhere to be, it’s no trouble at all.”

Raffi turned to give Seven an equally wide-eyed look. _What are you thinking?!_ most of her wanted to scream, while a small part of her wanted to shower her with kisses. The smile she received did little to calm the storm of doubts that churned in her stomach, though she had little choice but to turn and follow Pel at the insistent pressure on the small of her back.

At first, she stayed a few steps behind. Her heart was hammering in her chest, old instincts catastrophizing every aspect of her current situation. What did Pel know? What did Pel really think? _Oh god, what if she doesn’t know anything?_ Was Raffi obligated to tell her? Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice Pel slowing her steps and now walking beside her.

“Sorry to surprise you like that,” Pel said, laughter lighting her tone as Raffi startled. “While I don’t always associate strongly with my culture, my people are nothing if not opportunistic.”

Raffi considered the statement thoughtfully, realizing she knew nothing about the woman her son had married. It was true, Pel seemed uncharacteristically open and welcoming, regardless of whether or not she knew of Raffi’s history.

“You do seem…unexpectedly sociable?” Raffi offered, uncertain how to broach the topic without seeming offensive. To her relief, Pel laughed.

“My parents, my father in particular, were exposed to a rather different way of life from a young age.” She turned her head toward Raffi slightly while still searching for a suitable spot for diaper changing, the mother’s equivalent of making eye contact while remaining engaged in the task at hand. “I believe you are familiar with the Qowat Milat?”

That fully grabbed Raffi’s attention. “I’ve…had the pleasure of working with them in the past, yes,” she offered somewhat elusively, though her interest was clearly audible. “I had thought them to be myth for the longest time.”

“Most of Romulan society still wishes they were, certainly,” Pel responded, homing in on a location and changing her course accordingly. “My family, however, was not included in that count. My father’s aunt was Qowat Milat, and she influenced him heavily. This influence caught my mother’s attention, eventually bringing them together, after which they shared this influence with me.”

As Pel spoke, they reached a courtyard area, claiming a wide bench for their task. She was about to ask Raffi to pull materials from the bag she carried, only to find that Raffi already had a blanket laid out and was searching for the rest of the necessities. To Pel’s amusement, Raffi didn’t seem aware of what she was doing, deeply invested in their conversation.

“Did you ever consider joining them?” Raffi was enthralled, the conversation bringing back memories of her interactions with the Romulan oddities during the evacuation.

“No,” Pel responed emphatically. “I enjoy sarcasm far too much.” Raffi laughed.

“I don’t know, sometimes I feel like life might be easier saying exactly what I’m thinking all the time.” Raffi paused as Pel laid the baby down on the blanket. Having her so close, she was lost again in the child’s innocence and beauty. Every little babbling coo pulled on her heartstrings, those bright brown eyes locking on hers seemed to fill her with life. Raffi simply stared in wonder, determined to soak up every second she could of this impossible blessing.

Hesitant to interrupt but knowing she still had a job to do, Pel held her hand firmly on the baby’s torso as she started undoing the clothing with practiced fingers. “Would you mind holding her still? This tends to be when she tries to make her escape.” Raffi chuckled knowingly, placing her hands firmly but gently over the baby’s shoulders and chest. She couldn’t resist a little tickle with her fingertips just below the baby’s ribs, thought she would explode from joy at the adorable giggle it elicited.

“Whose side are you on, _hru’ri’ranov_?” Pel joked as she expertly caught flailing legs in one hand. Raffi was so entranced, she missed the casual address by her daughter-in-law, but did bashfully set about trying to distract and calm the very squirmy half-naked bundle of limbs. Interspersed in the soft shushing, Pel heard mixed Standard and Romulan baby talk. Within seconds the baby stilled, seemingly as enchanted by her grandmother as Raffi was with her. Pel took the opportunity to finish her task quickly, then taking her time returning everything to the bag Raffi had placed on the ground.

“ _Rhuissa_ , El’thi,” Pel said, breaking the spell as the baby responded to her name. “Would you mind holding her?” When Raffi looked up in shock, Pel tugged gently on the blanket, indicating that she would like to pack it away as well. Raffi smiled, tenderly picking her granddaughter up and bringing her to her chest. She felt her eyes tear up when the child snuggled against her, little arms across her neck and shoulder in a baby approximation of a hug. Pel felt her own eyes well at the scene. After placing the folded blanket back in the bag, she sat up and took a deep breath.

“I remember my great aunt visiting us several years back,” she began as Raffi continued to cradle the baby to her chest, swiveling back and forth slowly, reflexively in response to the tiny life in her arms. “She told us about this pair of Starfleet officers who had arrived to help them relocate to Vashti, safetly out of the blast range of the supernova.”

Raffi froze, felt her body go cold. Maternal instincts triggered her arms to maintain a soothing bounce since the rest of her had gone stock still, but her mind was racing with uncertainty, the immense failure of the mission roaring through her memory. She wasn’t given long to ponder as Pel continued.

“I remember being amazed by her stories, and the two humans who put so much of themselves into helping our people. And when the evacuation stopped, she got word to us not to believe all of the propaganda about Starfleet having had some nefarious plot. She shared with us about the attack on Mars, and Admiral Picard’s resignation in protest to the end of the mission. I was sad for them, having poured all of their being into helping so many strangers, only to be abandoned by the organization they served.

“Rafaella Musiker became a bit of a hero to me, honestly. I hope you won’t hold it against me that I was…less than charitable with your son when I learned he had not been forthcoming with your identity when we first met on Freecloud.”

_I have faced down Tal Shiar, worked out some of the most convoluted diplomatic situations imaginable, finessed the most stubborn and difficulty personalities across two quadrants, uncovered galactic conspiracies, and not one second of any of it left me as completely clueless as to how to respond as this right now,_ Raffi thought, feeling disembodied in the surreal nature of the moment.

“I know this is a lot,” Pel said sheepishly. “Gabriel gets that exact same expression on his face when he’s overwhelmed.” Raffi blushed deeply, but also felt her stomach drop at the mention of Gabe, darker memories creeping back in. _I can’t have her thinking I’m something I’m not…_ She took a shuddering breath, unconsciously squeezing her granddaughter tighter, fear that she was going to lose her soon.

“Pel…honey, I’m not…” she didn’t even know how to begin. _Or am I just afraid to say it?_ Eyes closing tightly, she started again. “There’s…a lot…I did a lot of bad things,” she blurted out.

“I know.” Pel’s heart broke at the haunted eyes before her, pain and regret evident in every line of her face. “We make mistakes when we are in pain. We do what we can to survive. Sometimes that means others pay the price.” She apologized silently as Raffi visibly winced. “Your debts are yours to settle, and that particular healing is between you and your son.”

Raffi had closed her eyes, feeling an old weight settle squarely on her shoulders again. Lost in the sensation, she missed Pel scooting closer. When a hand rest on her knee, she only kept from jumping out of her skin due to the precious bundle still curled against her.

“Have hope. Just as you can’t erase past sins, they can’t erase the good you’ve done. Helping Gabriel recognize the hero that I wish to emulate? That I fully intend to use as a role model for my daughter? _That_ will be between me and him.” Pel smiled, wrapping her arms gently around Raffi so as not to squish the child between them. Raffi still tried to fight the tears, feeling somewhat ridiculous given how many times she had already cried since waking up that morning. She did however lean into the embrace and dared to follow Pel’s encouraging directive: _have hope_.

An odd sensation drove them apart as the wriggling little being between them decided to make her presence known again. Raffi looked down to find an indignant pout planted on that cherubic face and laughed. Leaning forward she gently nuzzled their noses together, eliciting another squealing giggle.

“ _Jol hwi arhem_ , my little El’thi,” she whispered before handing her to her mother, delighting in the feel of her granddaughter’s name on her tongue. “Don’t you forget it.” Raffi stood, picking up the bag as Pel situated the child on her hip.

“Please be patient with him, Raffi,” Pel asked as they began their walk, knowing returning to Gabe’s distant demeanor would be hard on the woman. “He does care for you, I can assure you of that.” Raffi let out a surprised laugh, shaking her head.

“That’s more than I ever hoped for, honestly,” she admitted. “I don’t really have any right to ask anything of him. I’m just…” she paused, turning to look at Pel. “Thank you. For this. This was…everything.” Pel shook her head slightly.

“You deserve more than you will allow yourself,” she chastised affectionately, daringly taking on a maternal tone. Raffi lowered her head bashfully, reaching to rub the back of her neck. Pel grinned, holding back a laugh at how much this woman was reminding her of her husband. “But you are very welcome. You _are_ family after all.”

Raffi was incredibly giddy, and she was certain it showed on her face given the look Seven was giving her as she practically skipped toward the Ranger. Giving her a quick kiss, she let a playful grin steal over her face. “Miss me?”

“Always,” was the instant response, complete with debonair smirk. “You are in exceptionally good spirits.”

“I have every reason to be. And if this outing is any indication, we need to go shopping far more often.” Turning away from the sharply raised eyebrow in order to keep from giggling, she found her mood sobering as Pel finished buckling El’thi into her carrier, reaching for the bag to hand to Gabe.

“Raffi, thank you for your help.” Pel approached, her arms wide. Raffi beamed, returning the hug enthusiastically. She watched as Pel offered Seven her hand, impressed yet unsurprised by the young woman’s ability to accommodate her taciturn partner.

As soon as Pel stepped back toward Gabe’s side, Raffi felt Seven’s hand take hers. Thankful that she didn’t have to fear harming the xB, she gripped that lifeline with all her strength. Looking into Gabe’s eyes, she found that they had calmed even more. Still distant, but no longer holding that cold, accusatory sharpness. _Have hope,_ she remembered, collecting herself.

“It was good seeing you, Gabe,” she said, cursing the crack in her voice as yet another round of tears threatened to appear. As he looked toward the ground, she swiftly began to walk around Seven, still gripping her hand for dear life and wanting nothing more than to collapse onto her bed and let the emotional exhaustion knock her out.

“Mom.”

Her heart skipped a beat as she turned. She couldn’t remember the last time he had called her that without venom dripping from the single syllable.

“The baby…her full name is Ael’theirr Michaela.”

The tears flowed freely, joyfully now, free hand over her mouth in disbelief. He had kept the tradition. _He had kept her with him._

_“He does care for you, I can assure you of that.”_

She had heard Gabe laugh as they walked away, though she missed what it had been in response to. The moment Seven’s hand touched her face, trying to turn her head, she instead threw her arms around the now slightly startled Ranger, who took a moment to return the embrace.

“You’ll have to help me with my Romulan,” Seven queried gently.

“Ael’theirr…roughly translated would mean angel,” she sputtered through her tears, not even caring about the crying anymore. “Michaela…” Seven squeezed in response.

“The archangel Michael,” she offered, pulling away slowly from the embrace. Raffi’s tear-stained, runny-nosed, puffy, red-eyed, joy-filled face had never looked more beautiful. “Spiritual warrior and patron for those who fight for good.”

“Seven,” she whispered, taking both hands in her own, her next words almost a devotional prayer. “There really is a chance.” Seven simply nodded, happily watching the new reality settle into her lover’s mind. Eventually they turned to continue walking back the way they had come, hand in hand, simply enjoying the world around them. Then Raffi’s memory caught back up with her.

“What did you say that made Gabe laugh like that?” came the innocent question.

There was a very long pause. “Um…”

“And what did you two talk about while we were gone?” came the more suspicious question.

“Do you think they have a strawberry version of that dessert you wanted to pick up?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Writing THAT was quite the experience. May have gotten a bit syrupier than I originally intended in some places, but I think I was trying to make it up to Raffi for everything I was putting her through emotionally…
> 
> In my head, Seven was of course humming “You Are My Sunshine” when comforting Raffi.
> 
> Details on the backgrounds/specifics of each archangel were pulled from various sources: Raphael is attributed with being a guide for Tobiah and healing his father’s blindness in the book of Tobit, Gabriel is associated with being a messenger of hope and the coming of the Messiah, Michael is often associated with victory over evil and is typically depicted in armor with a sword.
> 
> Romulan from both [English-Rihannsu Dictionary](http://mrklingo.freeshell.org/romulan/engtorihan.html) and [Imperial Romulan Language Institute](http://www.rihannsu.org/arch/www.rihan.org/drupal.html).
> 
> _hru’ri’ranov_ – grandmother
> 
> _rhuissa_ – good, well done
> 
> _jol hwi arhem –_ I love you (non-romantic)
> 
> Comments, as always, are greatly appreciated! <3


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